Read the first two chapters of Circle of Seven free!
How did the dragons raise the shield? Who created Rrizzerith and why is he out for revenge? Find out in the exciting prequel Circle of Seven
Circle of Seven Chapter 1
Dust, mixed with ashes and smell of dead magic swirled into the command tent as the slave quietly slipped through the curtained door. Lord Wizard Velsedor caught the scent, and with an impatient flick of his finger, pushed the dust away before it covered everything with a burnt, sticky residue. He ignored the slave and continued staring at the map that covered the table that filled over half the tent. Where could he get more magic? The valley of Shintar was spent. He dipped his quill in ink and marked a big X over the valley far to the south. He scowled, dipped his quill again and scribbled back and forth until the entire area was black as pitch. The slave cleared his throat. When the wizard did not react, he spoke. “Lord Wizard.” Wizard Velsedor scowled and lifted his quill from the map before looking up. “This better be important, Omo,” he growled, “or I will turn you into a toad.” “There is word from the dragons. They want to parley for peace.” The wizard’s arm jerked, and he dropped the quill. His sleeve brushed the ink bottle which wobbled and fell. A thin black river of ink spread across the map, but Velsedor ignored it. “At last,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “At last! I knew the Shadow Warriors would break her. And just in time, if Averanth only knew. That last attack used up almost all our reserves. Where are we to meet? “The Plains of Kell.” “Good, good,” Velsedor nodded. “Send word that we will meet in seven days. That will give us time to set up defense in case this is a clever ruse.”
Chapter 2
Two great companies met on the Plains of Kell, divided by the Northmere River. The river was dead, a rank smell of rotten fish and stagnant water rising from its surface. What had once been a beautiful, fertile land was as harsh as a desert. A white dragon approached the river, surrounded by warriors; dragon, human, dwarf and elf. All of them carried a white flag of truce. “Averanth Silvermere,” Wizard Velsedor murmured. “My dear, dear Averanth. Why did you have to be so stubborn?” Wizard Velsedor left his army and strode to the river alone, the white flag of truce tied on a pole and slung over his shoulder. His entire demeanor suggested that he was only meeting because he was bored and had nothing better to do. “Come, Averanth,” Wizard Velsedor called as soon as he was close enough for her to hear. “Must we yell our terms across the river? Surely two old friends can meet without the need of all this armament.” He pointed to the bows carried by the elves and the axes slung over the shoulders of the dwarves. “Swear upon the soul of your mother that you will abide by the rules of truce,” Averanth called back. “Swear that no harm will come to me or mine.” Wizard Velsedor inhaled sharply. Averanth knew him too well. The only thing sacred to him was the memory of the mother he had loved more than life. “I so swear,” Wizard Velsedor yelled. “Give the vow and her name, or we are done.” Wizard Velsedor took two steps forward until he stood at the very edge of the river. He raised his left hand into the air, and clasped the right, clenched tight into a fist over his heart. “I swear, by the soul of my mother, Indri the Fair that I will abide by all rules of truce. Averanth Silvermere and her companions are safe while we parley.” “State the rules of truce.” Wizard Velsedor swore under his breath. He had spent two days closeted with his scholars, lawmakers and fellow wizards rewriting the rules of truce. Witnessed and signed, they were legal and binding in any land where he ruled. Which, in his thinking, was the entire world. It would have given him complete and utter control over the dragons as soon as the parley ended. Wizard Velsedor screamed the rules of parley, the old rules, using it to vent his anger. By the time he had repeated all twenty-nine articles, he was calm, and was chuckling at Averanth’s cleverness. She was such a dragon! No wonder he had heart bonded with her. Too bad they fought on opposite sides of this war. “I believe that is all, my lady,” Wizard Velsedor said, giving a mocking bow. “Release the Shadow Warriors,” Averanth answered. “All of them.” The wizard waved his hands, mumbling a spell. Thick smoke rose from the ground and swirled into grotesque creatures of all sizes. Before they became solid, Velsedor brought his arm straight down, and they drifted away on the wind, filling the air with the choking smell of death. “Anything else, dear lady?” Wizard Velsedor called. Averanth consulted with her council. “That is all,” she shouted. “We will come.”